


Lost & Found

by Starrla89



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Reunions, excessive schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrla89/pseuds/Starrla89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is lost, and finally found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in hopes it would make me stop feeling so damn sad about the finale. So much schmoop and fluff you will choke on it. I have never written anything this fluffy, but I just couldn’t help myself. The boys demanded cuddling, and who was I to deny them? I mean, they had been separated for millennia, after all. A billion “thank you’s” to my wonderful, incredible beta, **Iamtheradishspirit.** She encouraged me to write this and then gave me valuable and excellent feedback. This fic is better for her input. Any mistakes are mine.

**CHAPTER 1**

Merlin lay collapsed in grief on the shores of Avalon. Only Kilgharrah’s words about Arthur rising again in Albion’s greatest time of need had stayed his spell to set the boat alight, as he usually would have done. Instead, he watched the boat drift out to the island, until it disappeared into the mists. Then the world went grey and Merlin passed out of its reach for a long while.

What he felt was much too profound for the word “grief,” for tears even. When he at last came back to the world, he simply lay on the cold ground. No word existed for his current state, except maybe that one – “existing.” He certainly was not living, did not feel _alive_. Merlin did not know that such grief could be present in the world, but he now had firsthand knowledge of it.

Arthur was gone. Dead. Merlin had held him in his arms and felt his life drain away, little by little. He remembered Arthur’s eyes locked on his, his gloved hand on the back of his head as he whispered, “Thank you.” His eyes said more, but he was so weak. So unbelievably weak. As he started to slip away, Merlin had frantically cried out, “Arthur!” and Arthur had actually _come back_ for just a second, the sheer force of Merlin’s love pulling him back from the brink long enough to share one last look. “Stay with me,” Merlin had begged. Then he was gone. Truly, irrevocably gone. Damn it, he was _gone_. Kilgharrah’s words seemed hollow and meaningless. How long would Merlin have to wait? How did Kilgharrah know that Arthur would return? Questions with no answers. Merlin folded in on himself and continued existing, still too shot through with raw pain to do more. All his magic, and nothing could be done. Why was this the time his powers chose to leave him?

Grief gave way to anger, and suddenly Merlin felt a white-hot, blinding rage course through his body. Arthur was gone, and it wasn’t fair! Dimly, he was aware that he was thinking like a child, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was Arthur back, now. For ten years he had protected him, helping Arthur build a Camelot to be proud of. He had saved Arthur’s life countless times, both on the battlefield and off. They had shared thousands of hours of conversations, jokes, fights. Their bond transcended mere friendship. Merlin wasn’t sure if he even had a word for what he and Arthur were to each other. When they were with each other, everybody else ceased to exist. Their eyes always found each other, no matter what else was happening. Even in the heat of battle, Arthur would check in with Merlin, as if he could not continue with the task at hand unless reassured that Merlin was safe. Merlin didn’t remember at what point it had crossed over into something other. The feelings they had for each other never felt like “before” and “after,” and so Merlin honestly could not pinpoint when it had happened. He thought it was after he had recovered from being run through by the Dorocha’s icy fingers. He had never forgotten Arthur’s look of utter despair as he tied him to his horse and sent him off to Camelot with Lancelot. When Lancelot returned with a healed Merlin, the other knights had rushed to hug him, but Arthur hung back, as if afraid to believe that Merlin was really standing before him.

That night, as everyone else had slept, Arthur and Merlin had talked deep into the night, sharing their worry about what was going to happen on the Isle of the Blessed. Arthur was determined to sacrifice himself to close the Veil, and Merlin had been unable to talk him out of it. Merlin looked at Arthur with desperation.

“Arthur, come here.”

“What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

“No, I mean come here.” Merlin opened his arms. “If you’re going to be a stubborn ass and throw yourself into the Veil tomorrow, well then I’ve got a few things I want to say.”

Arthur went, thinking, _How does he do that? Who is the Crown Prince and who is the servant? And why do I always give in? Oh, right._ He caught sight of Merlin’s eyes, soft and loving, glowing in the firelight. _Can’t really argue with that, can I?_

He let Merlin fold him into an embrace. They had hugged before, but this was different. Merlin had a way of vibrating when he was happy, and Arthur felt the tremors in his own body.

“Arthur,” Merlin had said, “if you insist on doing this thing, then listen to me right now. I love you. I have since about two days after we met.” He felt the quick intake of breath from Arthur, saw his eyes widen just a bit, saw the smile leap to his lips. “Even though you’re an insufferable prat much of the time.”

“Um, thank you?”

Merlin laughed. Arthur really did have the most endearing look of confusion sometimes. “But you’re my prat. You’re going to be a great king – fair and just; you’re brave, the kindest person I know, and more beautiful than any man has the right to be. You are the last person I think about at night, and you drive me mad with wanting you. If you’re going to die tomorrow, you should know this. I love you. I love you so much.” Merlin couldn’t help the tears that started.

“Have you finished?” asked Arthur.

“Yes.”

“Good, because there are a few things I need to say, too. Number one is, I love you too, you great idiot. You didn’t know? You never noticed that my other servants don’t spend a fraction of the time with me that you do? That I don’t take anyone else with me wherever I go? Remember when we rode out to fight the Great Dragon? Who was with me at the head of the column? It was you, not a knight. It’s because I can’t bear to be apart from you for more than a little while. You challenge me in all the best ways. I love that you talk back to me and don’t listen half the time and argue with me. Nobody else has the guts! You are the most loyal person I have ever met, one of the bravest and most giving. You give of yourself so freely, without expecting anything in return.” He paused for a minute. “And you are more beautiful than any man has the right to be. You drive me mad with wanting you.” Arthur smiled wickedly at Merlin and pulled him back into his arms. “Hush now. Dry your tears, my love. I would have you smile at me if this is our last night together.”

Merlin had smiled then, and brought his lips to Arthur’s. The shock was immediate and all-consuming. Arthur had never felt such heat, had never felt desire kindle so quickly. He gasped and opened his mouth to Merlin, who obliged his need by exploring with his tongue. Merlin continued the kiss, which was electric beyond all imagining. Arthur kept nipping at his bottom lip and moaning low in his throat, and Merlin felt he really might go mad with desire. Mindful of the knights nearby, they had rutted against each other as best they could, stroking each other through layers of clothing. Arthur swallowed Merlin’s cries as he came, following him a few moments later. They lay panting in each other’s arms, whispering endearments and trying to contain their laughter. For that short while, nothing else had mattered except each other.

Nothing in their usual daily routines really changed after that night, after Lancelot sacrificed himself for all. Merlin and Arthur had continued on as always, just with a greater understanding of each other, and if Gaius had any questions about why Merlin had moved out of his room, he didn’t ask.

On the shores of Avalon, Merlin struggled to contain both anger and grief. How could he go back to Camelot now? Being in Camelot would only remind him of his biggest failure and greatest loss. No, better to leave Camelot in the capable hands of Gwen and continue on his way. So, Merlin began his next great task. If Arthur was going to rise again, well then, it was Merlin’s job to wait for him. Nothing would dissuade him from this purpose. He bent his entire life around waiting for Arthur. Years passed, decades, centuries, millennia, and still Merlin waited. He never ventured far from Avalon, couldn’t. What if Arthur returned and Merlin was away? No, that was not to be thought of, or borne.

The years passed. Merlin wandered the country, taking the occasional companion and lover, for even though Arthur was his true North, Merlin was not opposed to company and indeed needed it, needed friends to help him bear the lonely vigil he kept. Some of his lovers stayed with him for years, some only hours.

One woman was with him for a lifetime. He met her on a cold night, when he impulsively stopped into a pub for a pint. As he sat at the bar, worn smooth with years of elbows, he had caught a glimpse of a blonde head at a corner table. His breath hitched in his chest. _Arthur!_ But no, of course it wasn’t he. Still, something in the way she sat and moved made the memory of Arthur slam home. He had made his way over to her table and introduced himself, unable to resist the feeling of being with Arthur, even in this most roundabout of ways. She had smiled at him, and Merlin almost couldn’t breathe for how much Arthur was there. Merlin sat down and did not leave her side for the next 4 hours. Once he got past the initial shock of her resemblance to his beloved, he found her delightfully warm and funny. She was so like Freya, and Merlin truly enjoyed her company. That was a happy time in his life, even with Arthur’s name always sounding a drumbeat in his head.

After she died, Merlin closed himself off from the world for a long time. He was old, so very old. His hair and beard were long and white, his body gnarled. He still had magic, but it was faint, almost an echo. He thought he had one more spell left in him, and he saved that energy like a dragon hoarding gold. His nights were restless, with a feeling he could not shake that something was about to happen. Many mornings he woke crying, Arthur’s face before him, the memory of it undimmed by a thousand years. Still he waited.

**CHAPTER 2**

For a long time, Arthur floated in and out of consciousness. He retained all his memories, but they were maddeningly elusive, and he could only ever remember some things some of the time. He remembered being stabbed by Mordred. He’d never forget that. He remembered killing Mordred in turn, stunned by the betrayal, and he remembered Merlin telling him he was the sorcerer who had saved them all. Even in memory, Arthur still felt the shock that had slammed into him, the disbelief. Merlin, a sorcerer? Merlin, his manservant, his counselor, his advisor, his best friend, his love, his everything? A sorcerer. He saw the pain on Merlin’s face, and even in his initial anger at being lied to, and the sense of yet another betrayal, he could see how much it had cost Merlin to admit this. Part of him wanted to just pull Merlin down to his side and kiss him and tell him it was all right, but for a time, anger won out. The forlorn look on Merlin’s face when Arthur asked him to leave was something Arthur never wanted to see again.

He remembered (though he wished he didn’t) Merlin’s last, futile attempts to save him. Holding Arthur in his arms, trying to keep him alive by sheer force of will. Calling him back from the brink for one more second. The feel of Merlin’s forehead against his own, tears falling onto his face, and Merlin’s agonized scream of despair, a sound that frightened him as nothing else ever had. Then nothing, until he had woken up in Avalon.

His first thought upon awakening was of Merlin. Where was he? How was he? Arthur had no idea how much time had passed. He left his room and ventured outside to the shore. There was a woman sitting on the sand. She smiled at him as he approached and gestured for him to sit next to her.

“Hello, Arthur. My name is Freya.”

“Who are you?” Arthur asked. “Am I really dead?”

“I am the Lady of the Lake. I am the caretaker of Avalon and your companion whilst you wait here. It has been foretold that you are the Once and Future King, and when the need is greatest, you will rise again.”

“So I’m to just…wait here? Until called?”

Freya gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, Arthur. Your duty now is to wait, and watch. You will not be cut off from the world, but neither will you be able to interact with it. You may see anything you wish, but you may not leave Avalon until called.”

“How? How do I see? I need to see, quickly!” Arthur looked to the horizon immediately.

“You simply think of the person or place and cast your mind outwards. The stronger the bond, the clearer the vision.”

“Merlin.” Arthur closed his eyes and called Merlin’s face to his mind. Almost instantly, a picture swam into focus – Merlin in the forest, sitting against a tree, a small fire burning nearby. He was crying.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry. All my magic, and I couldn’t save you.” Arthur could feel the misery pouring off him in waves, the abject grief, the love, the sorrow, the regret. So many emotions from this man who had always worn them on his sleeve for all to see. Yes, he had hidden his magic from Arthur, but nothing else. Merlin could not have been more giving of his emotions, and once they had crossed that barrier into love it had been pure joy for Arthur.

“Oh, Merlin,” said Arthur as he watched. “Please don’t cry. I’m right here.” He felt tears in his own eyes and turned to Freya. “Nobody loves the way Merlin does. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.”

Freya smiled to herself. “I know something about being loved like that. It is very special. He is very special.” She turned to Arthur. “Never have I seen a bond between two souls as I have yours and Merlin’s. He is yours, and you are his, forever. I am glad you are able to see him. Merlin is a very powerful sorcerer. It may be that he will be able to feel your presence at times. Have faith in him and all will be well.”

At those words, Arthur redoubled his efforts at seeing Merlin. Desperate to do something to comfort his beloved, he reached out a hand and stroked Merlin’s face in the picture in his mind. “Don’t cry, my love. Please don’t. I am with you and will be always. Wait for me.”

**CHAPTER 3**

In the forest, Merlin still sat on the leaves, crying as though his heart would never heal. He wasn’t sure it would. “Arthur, why did you leave me?” Suddenly he felt a breeze on the side of his face. The wind seemed to speak to him: “Don’t…my love. Please... always. Wait…”

“Arthur?” Merlin’s hand flew to his face. “Arthur, is that you?” He looked around, but there was no one there. “I can feel you here. Please come back to me, I can’t live without you.” Fresh tears coursed down his face. Merlin sat back against his tree and whispered, “Thank you, Arthur. I knew you would never leave me.”

In Avalon, Arthur withdrew his hand, unwilling to cause Merlin any more pain. He did not think it was possible for the human heart to contain such love, but seeing Merlin in tears proved him wrong. “Freya, I can’t bear to see him like this.” He turned off the mental image and allowed Freya to gather him into her arms.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” she whispered. “It will get easier for both of you, I promise. Why don’t you rest for a while and let Merlin have some time before you reach out to him again?”Arthur nodded against her shoulder, grateful to have her with him.

So the years passed. The depths of Merlin’s grief caused Arthur to wait a long, long time before he ventured another look into his life. When he did finally dare to look, he saw Merlin as he remembered – busy, happy as was possible, and going about his daily life unfettered by the crushing grief of the first few years. Arthur saw Merlin with his various companions over the years. It was difficult sometimes, but he understood that Merlin needed this, and he was not so selfish as to begrudge him the companionship. He himself would be lost without Freya, who had proven to be a steadfast friend.

**CHAPTER 4**

Merlin woke up and felt the change. Something was different. Something was going to happen. He did not spend his days hoping, but today he was unable to stop himself. His remaining magic usually hummed quietly in the background, but today it leapt to the fore, making itself known in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries. Something was happening.

Still not daring to hope, he decided to go to the Lake and spend the day. He made his way into the forest surrounding the Lake, to what he thought of as “his” tree, the one he had leaned against so long ago and first felt Arthur’s touch. There had been other days like it, few and far between, but patently _there_ , and he treasured each one. Every time it happened, the love that lay ever-present in his heart would flare once more. It was painful, but so beautiful at the same time that Merlin savored the pain as proof of the love he had once known.

Shaking the memories away, he looked out at the Lake from his vantage point by the tree. The surface of the Lake rippled eerily in the still air. _It rippled_. Merlin forgot to breathe. He felt the magic swell inside him. He got up and started making his way down to the water’s edge, going faster until he was flat-out running. He pulled up and realized that he was not even remotely out of breath, and nothing ached. Laughing, Merlin spun around, looking down at his newly-restored body. He always knew that the magic was saving itself for one last spell, and this was it. Arthur was coming, and Merlin would be the same Merlin that Arthur had known.

The surface of the water broke, and a blond head emerged. Arthur stood up fully, taking in the sight before him. Across fifty feet of water, his eyes locked with Merlin’s, and a smile broke out on his face sunnier than the day. As he waded ashore, he noticed Merlin vibrating with happiness, exactly the same as the day of his coronation. Merlin’s openness with his feelings was one of the things Arthur loved most about him. He reached the shore and stood in front of Merlin. Neither spoke for a long moment; they just drank each other in and spoke on the non-verbal level they’d always shared. Merlin was the first to break the spell. He ran the last few feet to Arthur and threw himself into Arthur’s open arms. Feeling those arms close around him was the most sublime moment of Merlin’s long life. Arthur was here. He wasn’t a thought, or a memory, or a feeling, or a presence – he was real and solid and warm and wet and naked and _here_. Merlin didn’t think he would ever let go. Not that Arthur was in any hurry to let go. He buried his head in Merlin’s neck and drank him in, smelling him, breathing in the essence of him, being with him. Merlin started crying and couldn’t stop, and Arthur smiled against his neck because damn, Merlin had always been a crier, one of the biggest Arthur had ever known. Arthur had missed the openness with which he could express his feelings, along with a million other things that made him _Merlin_.

They stood locked together in each other’s arms almost as long as Merlin had waited for Arthur. Every time Arthur made the slightest move, Merlin clutched him tighter. In between sniffles, Merlin repeated “I love you,” over and over like a mantra, and Arthur repeated it back to him in affirmation. Finally, finally, they drew apart, but only a little, just enough to look each other in the eyes. Arthur took Merlin’s face in his hands. “My love,” he said, “I’ve missed you so much. Don’t cry anymore, please. I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.” He brushed tears from Merlin’s face and bent to kiss him. Merlin choked back a sob as their lips met. He had not dared to dream of this, for it had been far too painful to contemplate. Arthur’s lips were on his once more, and his face was in Arthur’s hands, and the feeling of being cherished overwhelmed all else. If he died at this very moment, it would have been worth the thousand years of waiting.

The kiss went on and on, until Merlin had to stop to look at Arthur and smile at him, so radiantly it broke Arthur’s heart. Merlin threw his head back and laughed, and it was now Arthur’s turn to weep as he watched Merlin revel in his return. He knew the pain Merlin had gone through, and Arthur had had pain too, but at least he had been able to see Merlin whenever he wished during their separation. Merlin had endured over a thousand years of waiting and wondering, never knowing for sure if and when this day would come. Now he reached out his hand to Arthur and pulled them both down to the sand.

“Arthur.”

“Yes, Merlin?”

“You’re naked.”

“Thanks, I’m aware.” Arthur winked at Merlin. “I did just come out of a magic Lake, you know. Would have been nice of it to conjure me some trousers, eh?”

“Here, you can take my coat. Although, really, it seems a shame.” Merlin grinned wickedly at Arthur.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to that soon. _Very_ soon. But first, come here. You’re too far away.” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and pulled him in front, so that Merlin’s back was nestled into Arthur’s chest. He put his arms around Merlin and dropped his chin on his shoulder. He turned his head the tiniest fraction, to look into Merlin’s eyes. “Hi,” he said softly, pouring all his love into the look. “I missed you.” Merlin sighed and leaned in for a kiss. The feel of Arthur’s lips was almost unbearably sweet, and Merlin could not shake the dreamlike quality to what was happening. So many years dreaming of this very moment, and now it was happening. He was the luckiest man to ever walk the earth.

Arthur broke the kiss at last and sighed deeply. He pulled Merlin back into his chest a little tighter and tucked his nose into Merlin’s hair. “Will you sing to me?” he asked. “Anything, I don’t care. I just want to sit here forever with you.” Merlin smiled at him. “Of course I will. Just hold me, and I’ll do anything you want.” He felt Arthur tense behind him and shot him a worried look.

“What is it, Arthur? What’s wrong?”

“You said ‘just hold me.’ I have a hard time hearing that, that’s all.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” said Merlin. “But think of it as a beginning now and not an end. Ready for that song?” He began to sing quietly, a lullaby from the Old Religion that he used to hum to himself when studying magic texts. Arthur felt the vibrations in his whole body from Merlin’s low rumble. The setting sun, a happy Merlin back in his arms where he belonged, and this beautiful place all coalesced in his heart, and he indulged in a few more silent tears. Merlin heard his sniffles and reached up a hand to Arthur’s face, singing all the while. He had never felt such peace.


End file.
